


Life After You

by EdosianOrchid



Series: Powerless [2]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bowling (kind of), Grimmjow can't handle his crush, Hurt Ichigo and Shinji will rip out your eyes, Light Angst, M/M, Older Ichigo is intimidated by Grimmjow, Post-Aizen Sousuke, Powerless Ichigo, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 16:20:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13930758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdosianOrchid/pseuds/EdosianOrchid
Summary: Grimmjow comes to the final conclusion that Kurosaki is deliberately avoiding him. From refusing to make any eye contact to forcing his whole body to stay at a ridiculous distance away from him.Grimmjow is definitely going to strangle the orange-haired wimp.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A follow-up to my previous one-shot "Rotten Apple". 
> 
> **[RE-EDITED]**
> 
> ~~Be aware that I am not a native english speaker.~~
> 
> **/!\ DISCLAIMER /!\ I do not own Bleach and its characters, Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo.**

Grimmjow’s whole body is numb from the dozen hours he has just spent, sat (prisoner) in a flying cage on which he had no control at all. He would never get used to it and he still has a hard time to believe that a lot of humans frequently take this mode of transportation.

The next drive in the taxi is quietly comfortable despite the nauseous sensation filling his gigai. The Arrancar hates those rolling death machines as much as those flying cages in the sky. Humans definitely lack some real survival instinct.

At his side, the Visored is yawning. Shinji takes a last sip of his coffee before putting the thermos back inside his backback planted on his knees.

Grimmjow stares out the car's window, watching the bright moon hanging in the sky. His heart lurches in his chest at the sight of the familiar display in front of his piercing blue eyes, his mind preoccupied by a sudden longing for the place he still calls  _home,_ when henotices the welcome sign to Karakura town, which means they are about to arrive in Urahara’s place, at last.

These short visits are usually meant to fix their gigai, damaged by their hunts on the American continent. Although it’s never nothing too serious, the bastard shopkeeper is always a reliable source of help and assistance.

It has been _eight years_ already.

Almost a decade spent to stalk, hunt and eventually kill the various dark forces they meet on the road.

Grimmjow would never fully admit it out loud, but he likes his fucked up job and how the human world is radically stuck in the middle of several hell dimensions. 

Of course, he still hates humans. Those miserable insects, despicable and ignorant to the point of not even noticing the supernatural forces living among them. Tch.

He doesn't care about saving those weaklings, he gladly leaves that foolish penchant for the blond Visored.

Some of them are not entirely a bunch of worthless pieces of trash, though. Between the other hunters, the people in charge of the underground businesses, the fullbringers, or even the simple mortal souls who cross their path sometimes, Grimmjow rarely gets time to be bored in this world.

The car suddenly slows the pace and the driver stops in front of their final destination.

Shinji makes a move to pay the taxi driver, while the Arrancar gets their bags out of the car.

They barely pass the front door, when a loud scream of rage pierce their ears.

"HEY DUMBASS! WHAT DO YA THINK A PHONE IS MADE FOR UH? YA TOLD ME YA WERE GOIN’ TA CALL ME AS SOON AS YER PLANE LANDED ON THE FUCKIN’ GROUND!" Hiyori yells, her face red with anger. She aims one of her tiny leg towards Shinji’s exhausted face, he hardly dodges her kick.

"I ain’t gonna deal with this shit now," Grimmjow declares unimpressed, rolling his shoulders with a shrug and smiling viciously at Shinji’s upset expression.

"Hiyori, not now pl-" Shinji begins with a tired voice, yet again, he barely stops one of the girl’s fist, violently aimed at his nose.

Grimmjow takes the rest of the bags and gets away from the two useless idiots, in a hurry.

"Good evening, Grimmjow-san," Tessai greets him with a faint smile under his moustache, and Grimmjow decides not to argue about the use of fucking honorifics tonight. "Let me take these, I’ll bring everything to your rooms,"  Tessai offers as he takes in his big hands the bags Grimmjow is handing him over. "Kisuke is in the main guest room, fresh food, hot tea and sake are waiting for you. You probably need this treat after this long travel," he adds, while adjusting the bags in his grip. Grimmjow nods without a word and Tessai moves toward the bedrooms, he stops a brief instant when he hears Shinji and Hiyori arguing further away, and then slips away with a deep sigh.

Grimmjow is definitely not the type of creature to refuse a good meal. This stupid gigai demands an insane amount of energy and Grimmjow often finds himself submitted to the most primitive human needs, like the constant necessity to feed his body or the unfortunate waste of time he has to sleep instead of tracking and killing a strip of demoniac beasts. He can’t wait for the shady prick to fix his gigai, and finally be able to enjoy himself in his spiritual body in the meantime and maybe he will even have some time to piss off his peers in Hueco Mundo. He rarely uses his true form during his missions with Shinji, or only with very few exceptions.

Hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans, he lazily walks towards the room where the shopkeeper is. He also feels the presence of the obscene female shapeshifter with him and lets out an annoyed curse, hoping that his pant is sufficently tight to resist an attempt at being stripped off.

Grimmjow steps into the room, and instantly  _freezes_ on the spot, eyes narrowed.

Maybe he's hungrier than he has originally thought, and his fake body has decided to play a powerful trick with his mind to give him the  _worst_ fucking hallucination ever.

**His sworn _enemy_ is comfortably sitting on the floor, with a cup of tea in his hands.**

"Grimmjow-san! It's good to see you. Please join us, sit down next to Kurosaki-san. You must be starving after this long trip!" Urahara says enthusiastically, his face half-hidden behind his fan.

Grimmjow gives himself a mental slap to be able to move his two stupid artificial legs towards the middle of the room and sits on a zabuton, beside the Ex-Shinigami. His  _enemy_.

He doesn't even throw his usual threats at the bastard shopkeeper.

Yoruichi grins shamelessly from her spot. That damn horny cat will regret this later.

Kurosaki stares at the Arrancar, anxiously. His sworn enemy is  _anxious_  and Grimmjow restrains himself from pinching the skin of his gigai or punching the ex- Soul Reaper and break his jaw.

Incredible. Grimmjow doesn’t detect a single trace of spiritual pressure drifting from him.

So, it's fucking true.

Nothing Shinji had said to him about Kurosaki’s powerless condition, could have prepared Grimmjow for this shocking realization. The young man in front of him truly got his soul ripped apart, just to defeat all by himself, a powerful adversary in a war he shouldn’t have fought in the first place. Despite how strong he was, the boy was still a  _reckless brat_  and Grimmjow wouldn’t have hesitated to slaughter the Soul Society's puppet, in a brutal bloodbath.

The worst part of it, is the fact that Kurosaki is the only one whose fate has been doomed by this battle.

What a fucking  _idiot_.

Grimmjow retains a nervous laughter.

The ginger fucker looks inevitably older. His facial features have slightly changed over the last few years, sharper and thinner. His orange hair is a little longer, it suits him though and Grimmjow mentally slaps himself a second time because why the hell would he have this kind of thought about his enemy’s haircut? If Grimmjow is correct, Kurosaki is twenty-four years old now. The ex-Soul Reaper looks different from the boy Grimmjow fought before. Shinji mentioned that he's currently studying to become some kind of a doctor. In a way, Kurosaki’s damn protector obsession, hasn’t left him. Without the duty to protect and help people around him, he would break down, consumed with guilt and self-hatred.  _Pathetic_.

Grimmjow can’t hold his smile at the corner of his lips, and Kurosaki gives him a speculative look. The Arrancar’s light blue eyes lay on his face, but the idiot quickly drops his gaze to his cup of tea. The young man is unbelievably tense and seems to be ready to bolt away at the slightest misstep from Grimmjow’s side. The Arrancar is about to test the ginger’s vulnerability with a cheap trick, when Shinji and Hiyori barge into the room.

Hiyori kicks Shinji in the ribs, making the man breathless for a bit, then the little blond sits beside Yoruichi, like nothing happened. Shinji briefly greets Urahara and Yoruichi before heading for Kurosaki with a goofy smile on his face.

Power or not power, the dickhead has always been attached to Kurosaki.

When he and the Visored are halfway across the world, Shinji and Kurosaki stay in touch mostly over the phone, even when Shinji and Grimmjow go back to Karakura to fix their gigai, since Kurosaki is constantly busy with his medical school. Shinji used to leave Grimmjow alone a couple of times just to take a flight back to Japan, whenever the shopkeeper told him the brat was freaking out. The former Espada couldn’t do much at the time, except follow the boy’s life updates while pretending to feel a complete lack of interest for his enemy’s struggles.

He's not fucking stupid though. He's aware that Shinji has offered to team up with him, with the first intention to make Grimmjow stay away from Kurosaki.

"I wasn’t expectin’ ta see ya here Ichi!" Shinji smiles, genuinely happy. He opens his arms for a short embrace with the ginger. "Don’t tell me that they already got rid o' yer annoyin' ass at yer internship," the visored accuses, with a mock-reproachful look.

Kurosaki rolls his eyes and gives Shinji a little slap over the head. "Shut up asshole, my internship starts in three days!"

Shinji scoffs and ruffles Kurosaki's hair with his typical toothy grin.

The Visored discreetly glares at Grimmjow with a firm and quiet warning in his expression. The Arrancar ignores him but grits his teeth and mumbles two or three curses under his breath.

The rest of the evening is cheerful and easygoing. Shinji shares the latest details about their most recent hunts and the rare artifacts they have collected to the great delight of the creepy shopkeeper, while Grimmjow simply devours the various dishes disposed in front of him, with Tessai re-filling the food containers every time the blue-haired Arrancar grunts at the emptiness of his plate.

Grimmjow’s interest comes back when Kurosaki starts speaking about himself. The Arrancar pretends to be absorbed by his food, while the Ex-Shinigami is talking about his student courses at the medicine faculty and his next internship in a pediatric department. He also shares some news about the lives of his high-school friends. Grimmjow’s memory about the weak Hueco Mundo’s assailants, is vague. He only remembers well, that pretty but emotionally wrecked human girl with a huge breast that Kurosaki wanted to save so badly from Aizen’s Espada, and who gave Grimmjow his arm back thanks to her intriguing power. Apparently, the woman is working in a cake-shop in town and she is dating the Quincy man who travels a lot in Europe for his fashion designer job. The guy who Kurosaki refers to "Chad" seems a little less worthless in Grimmjow’s opinion and is running a boxing organization for the deprived children.

As the end of the evening gets closer, Grimmjow comes to the final conclusion that Kurosaki is deliberately avoiding him. From refusing to make any eye contact to forcing his whole body to stay at a ridiculous distance away from him.

Grimmjow is definitely going to strangle the orange-haired wimp.

Tessai, assisted by Jinta and Ururu, clean the remains of the dinner. Shinji who has accumulated the exhaustion of the travel and an excessive amount of sake, is now offering a poor sight of himself, lying drunk on the floor. The hysterical blondie roughs him up violently and kicks him forcibly, all the way to his spare bedroom. Urahara isn’t in a better shape and Yoruichi drags him away, supporting his weight on her side without any effort.

* * *

_It's now or never._

Kurosaki is already out when Grimmjow grabs his neck and effortlessly shoves the ginger against the closest wall near the two of them.

"What the f-" Kurosaki exhales sharply, catching the piercing blue eyes of the former Sixth Espada. Kurosaki’s stunned expression makes the Arrancar grin wildly, and he almost wants the young man to freeze and scream in agony.

"What’s yer fuckin’ problem Kurosaki?" Grimmjow asks, squeezing his hand around the neck of the orange-haired man. Kurosaki puts his two hands reflexively, on Grimmjow’s wrist and the Arrancar’s skin warms under his touch. The young man struggles to free himself from Grimmjow’s hold.

His strength is terribly weak compared to eight years ago. It pisses off Grimmjow.

The former sixth Espada is thankful that Shinji is too alcoholized to notice anything and probably sound asleep already, because if the Visored sees him here and now, he would rip out Grimmjow’s eyes before engaging him in a deadly fight. Old partners or not, attacking his protégé might as well be a  _death wish_. Not that Grimmjow would mind to fight against the toothy bastard one more time.

Grimmjow loosens his grip and Kurosaki immediately fills his lungs with a huge puff of air. He lifts his head towards Grimmjow and his expression is twisted into a hateful grimace.

"What the fuck is wrong with you Grimmjow?" he shouts at him, as he bears his teeth with a snarl. He's sounding a lot like the shitty Shinigami that Grimmjow once knew, and the Arrancar’s mischevious smile widens even more in the blackness of the night.

"Answer my question first…  _human,_ " Grimmjow replies, deliberately spitting the last word out of his mouth. He waits for the Ex-Shinigami to feel insulted but the ginger fucker simply glares at him incredulously. This isn’t the reaction Grimmjow has been expecting.

The Arrancar is dangerously loosing patience and instinctively, he brings his hand on his Zanpakutō but his gigai is currently too damaged to allow him the access to his sword.  _Good_. Because otherwise, he would be already stabbing Kurosaki’s body from desperate rage.

" _Grimmjow_ ," Kurosaki begins, and he inhales a deep breath of air through his nose. The way his name sounds on the ginger’s lips, causes a strange sensation in Grimmjow and the Arrancar is now boiling with anger and frustration inside of him. "I have NO idea of what you’re talking about. I’m tired and I want to go h-" Kurosaki continues, before Grimmjow stops him all at once.

"Fuckin’ bullshit," Grimmjow cuts him off sharply, and the Ex-Soul reaper goes silent instantly, narrowing his eyes at him.

Grimmjow approaches his face slowly and throw his two fists on each sides of Kurosaki’s face, they land on the wall where the young man is still leaning against his will. The idiot doesn't even flinch a bit. He smells fucking good. Grimmjow mentally slaps himself a third time tonight, because why would he pay attention to this futile detail anyway? So in all logic, he decides to inspect his enemy’s face. A pair of brown eyes is watching him curiously, with a hint of irritation in his glance. He has a couple of freckles on his nose, as well as a few subtle scars on the rest of his face. The remaining proof of his Shinigami past. His breathing is perfectly calm and steady. Kurosaki seems definitely more rational and mature. Again, it pisses off Grimmjow.

"Don’t pretend that ya weren’t ignorin’ me, over the last few hours. So, I’m gonna ask ya again, what’s yer fuckin’ problem  _with_   _me_ , Kurosaki?"

Kurosaki half-opens his mouth and seems to gather his thoughts for a moment, swallowing hard.

"I thought… I mean, why… Why do you even care Grimmjow?" he wonders, truly disturbed by the Arrancar’s persistence.

That’s it. Grimmjow snaps.

"Stop fuckin’ messin’ aroun’ and answer the damn question Kurosaki, or I’ll smash yer skull against the wall behind ya," Grimmjow threatens with a low snarl, and Kurosaki swallows hard again.

"I assumed that… you know since I’m powerless and all… I’m not that interesting anymore. At least, for someone like you," Kurosaki confesses with a very cautious tone, he practically bites out the last sentence but the Arrancar hears him anyway.

That startles a laugh out of Grimmjow.

Kurosaki blinks slowly at him and raises an irked eyebrow as a response.

"So, If I understand correctly, you’re playin’ shy with me, cause’ ya think that I only fuckin’ care bout’ yer long lost  _weak_  abilities?" Grimmjow elaborates, wiping tears from his eyes, while trying to calm himself down. That damn gigai.

Kurosaki scratches his head, a faint blush spreading all over his cheeks, apparent despite the darkness around them. "Uh, yes?"

The ginger’s typical frown turns into a scowl, a blistering glare making his eyes squinting a bit. Even without his reiatsu, Kurosaki still has a considerable presence. His aura seems filled with a peculiar and swirling energy, affecting anyone close to its intensity.

Grimmjow clicks his tongue with an irritated look on his face.

He steps forward, their two faces drawing dangerously close. "Listen dumbass, I don’t like bein’ ignored and I don’t give a shit bout’ yer condition, but don’t ya dare ta play the shy lil’ girl aroun’ me like a pitiful  _coward_. I know ya better than that and it’s rather insultin’ for me and for ya."

Except, Grimmjow is lying plenty and simply about  _one_  thing.

He's fucking bothered by the condition of the ginger fucker and the absence of his spiritual powers.

The young man still owes him a real  _last_  memorable battle. The thought of this bloody paradise, makes Grimmjow shiver with a devious lust. But there's no way, the Arrancar would fight an opponent without any relevant challenge at stake.

Kurosaki heaves a deep sigh of relief, as if he has been carrying the weight of the whole world until just now.

"You’re right, I was rude, and I disrespected you. I sincerely apologize for my behavior," Kurosaki declares with an apologetic look.

Grimmjow snorts.

"Fuck ya, Kurosaki. Stop it with the politeness, it doesn’t suit ya."

The young man chuckles lightly. Grimmjow hates the softness in that laugh.

**"Do ya want ta get yer powers back?"**

Grimmjow’s question comes as a bombshell, but he doesn't care, he  _needs_  to know.

"I- I don’t know," Kurosaki answers, nervously running a hand through his hair. "You know, I’m happy with myself right now and my current life in general. I guess… I needed this break away from Soul Society and the spiritual world. It helped me to work certain things out." He pauses and then takes a slick gamble. "I don’t know if it’s possible to get my Shinigami powers back. I’m kinda used to live without them now, though." 

Kurosaki’s ambiguous answers at Grimmjow’s questions are pissing him off immensely. He doesn’t know why the young man would display his personal feelings to his supposed enemy. Grimmjow doesn’t need to know  _that_  much, it's far too intimate for his taste. However, he would be lying if he says he isn’t interested to know the Ex-Shinigami’s state of mind, concerning this particular issue. But the only thing he cares about right now, is the fact that Kurosaki hasn't given him a categorical  _"No."_  to his question.

"I still wanna fight ya, and kill ya Kurosaki. Don’t be too long ta make up yer mind, cause’ I ain’t gonna fight a mummy. Ya better don’t make me drag yer ass all by myself on the battlefield or I swear, you’ll regret it," Grimmjow warns, furrowed brows.

The light in Kurosaki’s warm brown eyes sparkles with determination in the darkness. Grimmjow has to suppress the sudden, violent urge to roar in excitement. That’s it. That’s the reaction he has been wanting to trigger in Kurosaki, since the beginning of their confrontation.

A brief, soft smile flits on the ginger’s lips.

"Well, that’s not going to happen any time soon. I’m still in town for the next two days, so if you want to hang out, that’s up to you Grimmjow. There’s this new bar a few blocks away and they have a bowling alley, so try and beat me," Kurosaki offers, shoving his hands in his pockets while he walks back on the road towards his family house. He doesn’t even expect a proper answer from the Arrancar.

Grimmjow stops himself from telling the young man where he could shove his proposal. It has taken every damn fiber of his body, to finally admit that he has been missing the ginger fucker for the last eight years.

"Tsk," Grimmjow mumbles as a response, shoulders hunched as he walks back inside Urahara’s place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep it's re-edited *shrugs*


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **[RE-EDITED]**

Hands shoved in the pockets of his ripped jeans, Grimmjow is looking at the entrance of the bar, the illuminated characters forming the name  _‘The Flowing Bowl’_ flashing in front of his eyes. He sighs, frustrated with himself.

The Arrancar actually spent the previous night wondering if he was going to do what he is about to do right now.

He can hear the music, a faint muffle. He could go in there for an hour. It wouldn’t be a big deal.

_Right?_

After all, it probably won’t be any different from the shitty bars he goes to in America, when Shinji insists to have a few drinks after a rough hunt.

Ignoring the knot in his annoying gigai’s stomach, Grimmjow adjusts his leather jacket and walks lazily towards the entrance, with a moody frown pinned on his face.

He goes reluctantly inside the building, finding himself swarmed by the smell of junk food, alcohol, and a lot of different voices backed by a clacking sound of colliding objects further away. The human voices are too damn loud, but he ignores them without any difficulty. He's looking for  _one human_ specifically.

The orange hair is unmistakable despite the dimmed lights. Grimmjow studies the young man for a long moment. Kurosaki hasn’t noticed his presence. Of course, the ginger fucker couldn’t feel any spiritual signature anymore. Even if Grimmjow’s reiatsu is largely contained in his gigai, there's always a possibility for someone spiritually aware to detect a faint trace of his spiritual signature.

Although his Reiryoku has been drained, Kurosaki still has this strange aura filled with a peculiar and swirling energy around him, making the simple action of staring at him so painfully intense that Grimmjow feels slightly dizzy. That damn defective gigai.

Sitting alone at a small, round table, the human is watching the other people chatting and laughing with a disinterested look. He's wearing a simple shirt, his sleeves rolled up in a casual style, with a few buttons left unbuttoned and showing off collarbone and skin. Grimmjow swallows hard. As if his head is somehow too heavy for him, Kurosaki’s elbows are lazily planted on the edge of the table with his chin resting in his hands and his fingers frantically taping his cheeks. The young man is impatiently waiting for something or rather someone, this person being Grimmjow.

The Arrancar clears his throat vociferously, holding a maniac laugh when the ginger almost jumps out of his chair.

Kurosaki turns around quickly and blinks wildly at him. The young man stares at him like he has never laid his warm brown eyes on Grimmjow before. Another blink, two, and then Kurosaki smiles. It’s a faint, coy thing, but it's the sweetest and most heartfelt smile the ginger has ever given him.

Grimmjow holds back a grunt and sits down across Kurosaki before he could open his mouth.

“Ya were sulkin’ Kurosaki. I thought those places were supposed ta bring fun and shit joy ta the likes o’ ya,” Grimmjow accuses, with a mock-reproachful look.

And just like that, Kurosaki glares at him, his typical frown turning into a scowl exactly like last night and Grimmjow grins.

“You’re late Grimmjow. I thought you weren’t coming,” the ginger fucker says simply, with a careful tone opposite to the obvious bitterness painted on his face.

“Didn’t wanna come but I figured out that gettin’ a few of yer human drinks was somethin’ I could stand apart from havin’ ta put up with yer whiny face Kurosaki,” Grimmjow shoots back with a nasty look.

Kurosaki had texted the address and the appointed hour to Sandal-Hat who passed the message to Grimmjow and the Arrancar acknowledged it by flipping a dismissive hand in the air and muttered a few curses under his breath as the shopkeeper was staring at him with an obvious amused expression, half-covered by his stupid fan. Grimmjow had to restrain himself from shoving it down into his throat. 

Grimmjow still can't believe he's actually doing that.

Kurosaki simply sighs and reaches for the menu, ignoring the Arrancar’s taunt.

“Besides, yer invitation pissed off yer annoyin’ watchdog so here I am,” Grimmjow adds, with a vicious insistence.

“He’s not my watchd-“ Kurosaki begins to snarl, only to cut himself off as a quiet realization seems to hit him of a sudden. The ginger fucker softens right away and smiles winningly at the Arrancar.

“How’s work?”

_Smartass._

Somehow, Kurosaki has now become an expert at avoiding all Grimmjow’s attempts to start an argument with him.

Instead of answering the question and looking at the menu like Kurosaki, Grimmjow scans the human’s face for a moment. The young man’s slightly older features make him realize that Kurosaki will inevitably grow older than him someday. He feels his heart falter at this thought. There's nothing he can do except killing the human and hoping to kick his Shinigami ass but it's a fucking stupid and hopeless wish that Grimmjow regrets of having right now. He grits his teeth and clenches his fists, forcing himself to ignore Pantera’s croaky snarls somewhere in his head.

Kurosaki’s calm expression has changed into something like uncertain confusion.

“It’s that bad?” the young man asks obliviously and visibly more concerned than confused now.

Before he could answer back, an overly polite voice stops him abruptly.

“Can I get you something, gentlemen?”

The waitress bounces happily on her feet, and shoots them a charming grin. She's holding a tablet, ready to take their orders.

She stares at the two of them, eyes flicking over Grimmjow before settling on Kurosaki.

“Uh… I’ll just have your best beer please,” Kurosaki answers with a faint smile. She blinks, a blush spreading across her face as a response and Grimmjow has to suppress another annoyed grunt.

“A Bloody Maria with a good shot of tequila,” Grimmjow replies sharply without even taking a look at the menu. Kurosaki seems surprised at the immediate answer from Grimmjow but he doesn’t comment on it.

The stupid smile pinned on the waitress’s face fades instantaneously at Grimmjow’s ruthlessness but the Arrancar doesn’t care. She touches her tablet and then nods before heading back to the bar. Grimmjow watches her go, finally releasing his contained growl in the back of his throat.

“ _Grimmjow_ ,” Kusosaki chides, squinting his warm brown eyes a bit. “Be nice.”

“Like I care?” Grimmjow spits at him. “That woman is paid ta do a job without actin’ mushy at a random stranger,” he screeches, startling the ginger.

“What?”

Kurosaki scratches his head and doesn’t seem to be taking the hint.

“She’s hittin’ on ya, dumbass,” Grimmjow snaps bluntly and rolls his eyes at the troubled expression on the young man’s face. “No wonder it’s the four-eyed Quincy who ended up with the princess.”

“I… I don’t understand?”

“You’re sinkin’, moron.”

The Arrancar lets out a dramatic sigh.

How come a fucking non-human, familiar with this world for only eight damn years, could spot these things like a kid’s game? Besides, it's not rocket science. Kurosaki is  _good looking._ At least, if Grimmjow thinks in human beauty standards. A brief flash of some absurd advertising signs, excessively obscene, pops into his head.

At times, the young man is more attractive than pretty, like right now for example. The dimmed and colorful lights give his skin a smooth and glowing aspect in the dark. Kurosaki’s entire face looks like it has been carved into porcelain exactly like those rustic and overly expensive dolls that can be seen behind the storefronts in those weird and rusty human shops.

Grimmjow shakes the thought out of his mind and picks at the menu card, twisting it around his fingers.

A blush spreads all over Kurosaki’s cheeks, a pretty pink that reminds Grimmjow of some human sweet treats. The menu card in his hands is practically deformed into a small ball at this point.

Kurosaki clears his throat to hide his embarrassment and asks again, “So, uh… How’s work then? How are you handling things with Shinji?”

“Work’s fine. I get ta kill a lot o’ shit cause’ this world is full o’ creepy parallel dimensions with creepier things inside and the scum livin’ here has not a fuckin’ clue o’ what’s goin’ on,” he begins with a quick bark of laughter. “As for yer watchdog, like I already said, the dude’s an annoyin' dickhead but thanks ta whatever deity out there, he has a useful brain which is why I haven’t slit his throat so far.”

 _You’re welcome to try_  goes unspoken but Grimmjow hears it loud and clear. He stays calm. As much as it pains him to admit it, he would trust the retired Shinigami with his own eyes shut, precisely because the dickhead is retired and hates these rats as much as Grimmjow hates them.

“You don’t miss Hueco Mundo?” Kurosaki asks after a short moment of consideration.

He does, in a way. But not like how the weak mortal souls crawling in this world could get emotional and weepy over sappy shit like bawling about a place where they used to live during their childhood.

“That’s none o’ yer business Kurosaki,” Grimmjow growls harshly.

“But-“

“ _Kurosaki,_ ” Grimmjow cuts him off, glare sharpening and Ichigo goes silent instantly, his warm brown eyes getting duller but an unexpected hint of irritation is replacing the initial moroseness in his glance.

“I was just trying to have a friendly conversation but it’s apparently too much to ask,” the ginger shrugs with a bitter resentment in his voice.

“What the hell do ya think I’m doin’ here Kurosaki?” he snarls, feeling an imminent headache threatening to ruin his night at any moment.

The young man just crosses his arms on his chest with a ridiculous and childish pout on his face.

“I ain’t playin’ friend with ya. I told ya already, I’m here ta drink and-“

“You know, it’s not really the best idea to drink too much before playing bowling,” Kurosaki cuts him off, his lips pursed. He grins arrogantly.

“Then, why would they sell goddamn drinks? Where’s the damn fuckin’ logic with you fuckin' humans?” Grimmjow blares loudly, only to stop himself abruptly when he catches sight of the ginger’s triumphant expression.

“You’re a lil’ piece o’ shit Kurosaki,” he huffs dryly.

Kurosaki scoffs. “Not a breaking news anymore, I’m afraid.”

The waitress interrupts them coming back with their orders, clutching the drinks like they are precious treasuries. She thumps them clumsily on the table, blushing again when she pushes Kurosaki’s glass towards him and Grimmjow rolls his eyes. She politely bows at them before landing her glance on Grimmjow’s crumpled menu card, a flash of offence passing through her eyes and Grimmjow offers her his most charming smile, something he has learned from his toothy bastard partner, with his own personal touch, needless to say. A predatory smile with a line of sharp and inhuman teeth. She gapes at him and stumbles on her feet before she walks, or rather  _runs_  away from their table.

Kurosaki gives him an unimpressed look and rolls his eyes at him, Grimmjow shrugs it off.

The Arrancar lifts the glass to his lips and takes a sip. He pauses, swirls the liquid, and takes a larger sip. Grimmjow lets the alcohol makes everything lighter, warmer, blurred. Kurosaki is surprisingly draining his beer with a long swallow and Grimmjow suspects that the young man is familiar with booze, but he doesn’t say anything about it.

“Since you’re not willing to answer properly to my questions, why don’t you ask me some then?” Kurosaki enquires at last.

Grimmjow shakes his head to clear the alcohol haze. “What makes ya think I give a shit bout’ yer life, Kurosaki?”

Grimmjow has been expecting something like another complaint or another question from the human but  _this_.

A drink coaster flying and landing with a small pop right on the bridge of his nose, hasn’t been on the list.

“ _Goddamnit Grimmjow!_ ” the ginger hisses, anger darkening his expression.

Gone are the calm and mature features on the young man’s face, gone is the steady breathing, gone is the relaxed posture and gone are the clever subject diversions.

Fists clenched, furrowed brow, his back stiffening and his entire frame drawing itself up on his chair, his warm brown eyes are staring at him with incandescent fury.

**_Like the old days._ **

There is only the distant sound of the music, the clacking sound of the bowling pins, the loud voices, the laughter around them and the odd sensation that an invisible force is sucking out all the damn oxygen in the room.

“Only last night, you shoved me against a wall with your hand around my neck, because you were fucking upset that I didn’t pay attention to you, asshole!” he snarls breathlessly, his voice trembling with anger. “That’s a little excessive for someone who  _doesn’t give a shit about me_ , don’t you think…  _Grimmjow_?” Kurosaki spits out the Arrancar’s name with all the hatred he could find in his voice. “How fucking stupid you must be to accept my invitation here if you hate me so damn mu-“

Grimmjow is laughing.

A crazy and maniac laugh, anything but charming, more like the sound of a slaughtered pig or a horse sniffing heavily. That's a matter of opinion. He grips his aching ribs with one hand and his stomach with the other one, a torrent of tears flowing along his cheeks.

“WHAT THE HELL GRIMMJOW?!” Kurosaki cries out, looking like a distressed lost puppy.

The ginger’s reaction doesn’t make it any better and Grimmjow is practically certain that his gigai is on the verge of collapsing.

“The… foam…” Grimmjow manages to articulate, wiping the tears at the corner of his blue eyes.

“…What?”

In response, the Arrancar roughly grabs the young man’s collar, putting them nose-to-nose and he brushes his finger above Kurosaki’s upper lip. The ginger narrows his eyes at him and Grimmjow licks the beer foam on his finger with a suggestive sucking noise.

“Ya looked like a fuckin’ clown Kurosaki,” Grimmjow snorts, his hand still holding the ginger’s collar.

His clenched knuckles slightly skims the human’s clavicle, the warmth pulsing through his own skin.

“Speak for yourself, asshole.”

A warm hand gently pats his nose, gold eyes examining it with the concern of a future Doctor. Grimmjow can smell Kurosaki’s sweet breath. “It’s all red now, you’ll have a pretty bruise tomorrow. I can give you something after we go b-“

_Too fucking close._

He releases his grip on the ginger’s collar and slaps the young man’s hand from his face. “Back off!”

A beeping sound interrupts them.

“One of the lanes is free, we can go,” Kurosaki says, letting out what seems to be a relieved sigh while picking up the beeping device on the table.

They both get up at the same time, Grimmjow closely following Kurosaki until they reach a counter-top. The employee behind it takes back the beeping device that Kusosaki hands over and gives the ginger two pair of bowling shoes of their size. Kurosaki also orders two other drinks to be brought for them later. With that, they both head toward their assigned lane.

* * *

“It was fun.”

Grimmjow's piercing glance lays on one of Kurosaki’s feet and he sneers.

“Okay, clearly not that part. Fuck you seriously,” says the ginger, limping.

Kurosaki gives the Arrancar a deliberate shoulder bump. Grimmjow lets him get away with it, just this once.

The night is chilly without being unpleasantly too cold, they're still a few weeks away from the fall season.

Grimmjow's body is pleasantly appeased and less tense compared to the beginning of the evening.

“Ya kept criticizin’ my game but I won three damn strikes over ya, dumbass,” he mocks with a large piranha grin.

“That wasn’t a reason to drop your bowling ball on my foot,” the ginger scolds, giving him a failed glare.

Kurosaki’s gold eyes are gleaming with a fond look. Or maybe, it's the alcohol that softens the warm gaze of the human.

Grimmjow shakes his head and continues walking in the empty street. A thick silence falls between them.

“That’s my neighborhood.” Grimmjow hears from behind. He turns around to see the young man still limping, shortening the distance between the two of them. Grimmjow holds another mocking smile.

They stand an inch from each other in awkward silence.

Then, Kurosaki takes a shaky breath.

“So, hm.” He looks at him, unsure of what he's going to say next. “Do they know?” Kurosaki gestures awkwardly at the night sky.

Grimmjow knows what the ginger means. He rolls his shoulders with a shrug.

“They obviously know bout’ Shinji, but the dickhead has already lived here for a century without fuckin’ things up, so I guess they don’t need ta track him,” he answers, gazing up at the blackness of the sky and considering the stars for a moment. “Our spiritual pressure are too difficult ta track with the mouthhell in America, and we don’t often come back here but when we do, we stay in gigai, reiatsu practically masked. When the bastard shopkeeper is fixin’ them, our spiritual forms are also blinded by Kidō spells.”

Kurosaki nods thoughtfully. “Shinji… He doesn’t really like talking about Soul Society to me even if I know that he, Hiyori and Urahara talk about it quite often since they’re keeping contact with the other Visoreds out there,” the ginger’s lip curls, his voice low and uncharacteristically cold. His eyes...

He hated those fucking eyes. Something prone to provocation used to pulse in those lustrous irises.

He _misses_ this.

Grimmjow clenches his jaw. “You’re pretty bitchy for someone who’s not even tryin’ at all.”

“Excuse me?”

“If you’re ready ta be part o’ this world again, then move yer lazy ass ta find a way ta get those powers back and stop bitchin’ bout’ what ya lost in front o’ my face,” the Arrancar blurts out with a hiss.

Kurosaki just stares at him wide-eyed, looking at least ten years younger like a child being reprimanded by an adult.

Grimmjow snorts and the human flicks a suspicious look at him, still at a loss for words.

“Be a doctor if that’s what ya want and cure pain or become somethin’ else and prevent it, whatever. But ya might as well die fuckin’ tryin’ at least.”

The intense light of the lamppost above Kurosaki’s head creates a bright halo above him, his hair going from orange to gold-colored.

“What does it matter?”

Grimmjow leans forward, feeling the heat emanating from the Ex-Soul Reaper.

“You’d be more than a pathetic excuse for an old rival, Kurosaki.”

Something pained and worried flickers across his face.

“You're the kind o' human fool who would keep fuckin' swimmin' in the middle o' an ocean with no coast in sight,” he adds with a large smirk.

He leans back to scrutinize Kurosaki’s stunned expression. Without another word, he stabs his finger into the ginger’s stomach who gasps at the rough move and lets out a curse that sounds a lot like  _‘asshole’_.

On that note, Grimmjow starts walking in the opposite direction, chuckling to himself in the silence of the night.

"Thank you."

Grimmjow stops dead in his tracks without turning his back.

"For what?" he asks in an unusual quiet tone.

He hears a few lugging steps behind him.

A couple of fingers skim hesitantly one of his shoulder, then a whole flat hand squeezes it softly.

Grimmjow pauses a short moment and tries to decide between squeezing back Kurosaki's hand or rip it off but instead, he turns around. Kurosaki instantly drops his arm at his side and Grimmjow immediately regrets the comforting warmth on his shoulder.

Kurosaki lifts his head a little with an expression of gratitude so genuine that Grimmjow thinks for a second that his gigai's lungs can't receive any more breath of oxygen.

"For accepting my invitation to spend the evening with me tonight, I honestly thought you would laugh at my face and I didn't even expect you to come in this kind of place," the ginger blurts out, his face reddening as soon as the words get out of his mouth.

Grimmjow could reply with one of his usual sarcastic taunts but he has been frozen in place for a good minute now, his artificial heart pounding slow and hard in his chest.

"Also..." Kusosaki continues with a low voice before clearing his throat.

"I'm glad you didn't die eight years ago," he admits and Grimmjow glances at the flush that creeps into the young man’s cheeks. 

Grimmjow scoffs. "Don't flatter yourself Kurosaki, yer brat-self merely scratched me back then." 

"But Nnoitra-"

"Is dead." The Arrancar shrugs nonchalantly.

 A long beat of silence ensues. 

"So, are ya goin' ta be okay walkin' ta yer family house with just one barely functional foot or do ya need me ta carry yer weak ass all the way out?"

Kurosaki who has apparently found a new fascination at examining the pavement over the last three minutes, looks up and blinks sluggishly at him. 

"I'm- I'm fine! I don't-" the ginger stutters, his ears turning bright red, noticeable despite the night.

"Worried bout' yer manhood, _Kurosaki_?" Grimmjow mocks, articulating the ginger's name with an overly languid tone and smirking at the sight of the blush spreading all over his face. 

"My two fists are fully functional, asshole," Kurosaki shoots back while catching Grimmjow's laughing expression, the blood slowly draining off his features.

The ginger launches one of his fist towards the Arrancar's head (careful to avoid the spot where he threw the drink coaster on the bridge of Grimmjow's nose a few hours ago) and for a moment they look like two drunken guys inelegantly punching each other in the middle of an empty street late at night, far from the time when they were two skilled warriors battling to death in a desert of white sand.

Somehow, Grimmjow ends up face on the ground, Kurosaki's whole body resting on his back with an elbow victoriously pressing against his neck like those ridiculous fake-fighters Grimmjow once saw on TV. He could feel a mild but thready breath hitting his skin and making the tuft of blue hair on the back of his head standing on end like a frightened cat. The Arrancar doesn't even bother to kick the young man and send him fly away on the other side of the street, bones crushing against the ground. He could also perfectly end Kurosaki's life by shooting a cero at him or simply pressing his thumb on a very precise vital spot.

He could but he won't.

"What are ya, Kurosaki? An Incubus?"

"A what?"

"Forget it."

Grimmjow feels the weight of Kurosaki's body lift away from him, he forces himself to hold a frustrated grunt caught deep in his throat then he rolls over to face an extended hand in front of his light blue eyes. 

He hesitates a short instant but he takes the human's warm hand in his and an imaginary fire roars through Grimmjow's body as he gets on his feet again.

They stand face to face, the Arrancar being a few inches taller than the human. The bright orangey halo triggered by the streetlight like earlier is also reflecting on him now, his own hair going from blue to the same complementary gold-brownish color as Kusosaki’s.

Neither of them is letting go of their hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah i know i was planning something in the long term but i prefer to stick to shorter stories than big ass fics that my brain can't handle anyway so that's why i deleted half of my work


End file.
